Rewriting History
by Kotama
Summary: Harry Potter goes back in time to prevent the future the war made-desperation always did lead people to do the most preposterous things. He just never expected that time travel would force him to be a Carrow. Hadrianus Carrow struggles as he tries to reform the British Ministry in hopes the Modern Witch Hunt never happens.
1. Prologue

Rewriting History

Chapter 1 : Prologue

* * *

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Harry turned to look Draco in the eyes. His green eyes held so much depth. They dulled from the horrors of the past twelve years of constant war and being on the run. Draco would have flinched if his eyes did not mirror Harry's. Both were skin and bones and they looked exhausted. "There's nothing left here, Draco."

The blond remained silent for a moment. He knew Harry was right, but he couldn't help but say, "There's the future."

"What future?" Harry's voice sounded so old, so tired. "It's been destroyed. Even if some miracle were to happen to end the war, what good would it be? Everyone's dead. They keep dying. What good is a better future when there is no one to enjoy it with? It shouldn't be a surprise. I've been working on this for years."

"What about me?" Draco snapped. He was terrified. "You don't even know if that'll work? If it somehow does, it's unpredictable. It could throw you back centuries."

"Draco…" Silence passed over them. Harry didn't know how to reply.

The war wasn't like anyone imagined it would be. The war began as a trifle between the light and dark. It wasn't quick either. It had lasted two years before it got worse with a third party: the muggles. The war did little to hide their societies and muggles began to discover magic beings and creatures. War definitely wasn't the best introduction to give to the muggles because they panicked—adding them, making a three-front war.

The war from the muggles side started slow. There had been disagreements in parliament as to what should be done. During that time, some radicals began hunting anyone associated down. Some because they thought them to be freaks of nature, and others because they were zealously religious to religions that thought magic was horrific. When the muggles officially declared war, there was no turning back. A few years of fighting both magical opponents and muggles, things shifted in the magical community.

There were talks about alliances between everyone related to magic. It didn't last though because of different moralities. Some remained ignorant believing that the muggles were harmless and wished to take no action against them. Some people just couldn't get along. Others were stubborn to their beliefs or thought the idea of joining together was idiotic. The threat of the muggles were unavoidable, though. It caused wizards, witches, and creatures to divide themselves among smaller groups. It was pathetic of them. Strategically, it was weak too. It happened, though. People kept close to only those they trusted and chaos ensued. Groups had been altered plenty as time passed.

From there, the modern witch hunt began.

It was how they were in the mess they were in. Their group had diminished. Luna had just died leaving Harry and Draco the last of their group. It was frightening—constantly being on the lookout. Their food supply was small so their meals were scarce.

"I'm sorry," said Harry. "It may not work, but I've got to at least try." He convulsed. His voice quaking. "I can't do this anymore. They're—I…Look…There's nothing left. They're dead. We'll be dead soon too. Twelve years, Draco. Twelve years! That's how long I've been running. I'm tired."

"And I'm bloody not! I—"

Harry intervened, "I know you are. None of us expected this. None of us wanted this. If this works, I'll make sure you have a better life. We'll all have a better life."

"You're nutters, you know," said Draco in resignation. Harry gave a tired smile. It wasn't a good insult, and it wasn't really _meant_ to be insulting, but it reminded Harry of the better days where they were just naïve children getting into fights. "You owe me for this." Draco suddenly remembered how he would have to be involved in the process.

"Right, give me an hour."

Harry went into the basement. He went into the closet and grabbed several vials of blood and another vial which had a blue substance. He was about to leave when he went back in to grab another vial. Liquid luck. He was not sure if it was brewed correctly, but in his circumstances, it couldn't hurt.

Exiting the room, he walked over to the desk and picked up various sheets. They were covered in notes and diagrams. To most, they would be meaningless. They were cross-reference to various forms of magic unrelated, yet Harry mixed and overlapped spells, rituals, and _theories_. Even if some people noticed mentions of certain spells, they wouldn't guess what the theses was, at first glance it was chaotic and nonsensical; of course, it was barbaric.

Harry cleared the floor before making a pentagram using blood for the ritual. He did it slowly as to not smudge the design and to regularly look back at the sketch to draw it correctly.

The complicated design took 4 hours to prepare the elaborate design. There was the largest circle which contained five more within in. Four were incorporated within as part of the original design. Then another was twined through the four inner circles—overlapping their designs, yet working simultaneously together.

Harry drank some water as he reviewed the notes. He was nervous. He was going to die. Whether the ritual worked or not, Harry Potter was going to die. It was a whim. It was mostly crazy thinking that even made the coming attempt possible. He scanned over the chant. It was long and he had to remember all of it. Once he started there would be no stopping or restarting.

Harry exhaled in a quivering breath.

Footsteps echoed as Draco walked down the stairs. He eyed the ritual circle warily. "You're done then?"

Harry nodded. "You remember the spell I taught you? If things go according to plan then cast it at me when the red light turns to fuchsia. Timing is everything. Don't cast it early and don't cast it late."

"This is insane…Your asking me to kill you." Draco wanted to help Harry; their lives were a living hell. But _Quanita Expetam _would kill Harry. He was going to have to kill Harry.

"Yes and no. Harry Potter will no longer exist and my body will rot. However, if the ritual goes as plan, the spell will split my soul in whole and hopefully send my essence back in time. If I get that far, my soul will be drawn to a developing magical core—a baby still in its mother's womb. Since the spell should leave my soul untampered, I should be able to regain my memories fairly quickly after birth," replied Harry. His fingers threaded through his bangs.

Of course if the ritual and spell did work then Harry would have to make a new plan from there. He didn't know if his soul would connect to his younger self. He didn't even know if he'd be in his time period. Ideally, he would be sent back to Tom Riddle's time to stop him from becoming a psychopath—one less enemy would be ideal and there would be plenty of time to strengthen isolation laws. However, he could also be sent back a few hours to a few millennia. Aside from being sent back, all other variables were unpredictable.

"Potter… let's do this before I change my mind." Draco tried to distance himself from all emotions.

Harry understood and carefully made his way to the centre of the circle without stepping on any of the blood markings.

"One last thing. If for some reason this foolish magic works and I'm alive…be my friend."

Harry's expression soften. "Definitely. And if you're a prick, I get to knock you down a few notches." The two ginned at each other.

Harry took the luck potion before grabbing the blue potions, drinking half of it before pouring the other half on the ground. He closed his eyes. Arm reached out straight in front of him with his wand in hand.

Harry began chanting and the circle lit up in red, the colour of the blood which was its main energy source.

Draco had his wand out in preparation. His arm convulsed in fearful anticipation. His eyes reddened and his breath shortened. The light began to turn fuchsia and Draco shouted _Quanita Expetam_. The pale green light and everything seemed to happen at once. Draco had to cover his eyes with his arm to shield them from the light and debris. Everything calmed and he lowered his arm.

"Harry!" He ran to Harry's fallen body. Looking into his green eyes, he was reminded of someone who was given the dementor's kiss. However, unlike people who received the kiss, he wasn't moving. In fact, his body began deteriorating quite rapidly. " .No."

Draco realized just how alone he was now. He stomped his foot and punched the wall in a fit of anguish.

* * *

The felix felicis must have worked. That was the only explanation Harry could rationally think of that his plan succeeded. Harry Potter was dead, but his soul, essence, memories, were now in another's body. While he wasn't in his desired timeframe, he wasn't back in the middle ages which Harry was thankful for. Born December 24, 1954 was Hadrianus Carrow, son of Reginald Carrow and Cloris Carrow (née Cornfoot).

* * *

_**Quanita Expetam is formed from the latin words: essance (quid), life (vita), detach (expedient), with soul release (animam solutam) as the base._

This is just a short prologue. All chapter from here on will be a min of 5000 words.


	2. To be a Carrow

Rewriting History

Chapter 2: To be a Carrow

* * *

It took time to recall his memories. The times spent as Harry Potter were only remembered as his brain developed. It meant the first year and a half of his new life, he was just like any other baby. It was when he was 20 months old that he began recalling his past life. They would come to him at random times, so often he would space out or burst out crying. His mother, Cloris, always worried for him in those times, for nothing she did could calm him down. It got worse when the memories came in his dreams or sometimes the memories made fictional nightmares. Hadrianus kept his parents busy, so at the time they never considered having more children; after him, they may not _want_ more children.

Eventually, all the memories returned. They gave him plenty of headaches as they all assimilated into his young brain.

Regaining memories sucked. It got to the point where Cloris simply purchased potion supplies and began brewing the many calming draughts and dreamless sleep draughts he digested. It warmed his heart to know she went through the trouble of brewing them—potions wasn't her strong suit, but she managed to make them. Despite being a Carrow, she was his mother and loved him. It was a pleasant sensation—to have parents.

Normally a child would develop as they grow. Their experiences help shape them into the people they would come to be. Parents often played a large role, if not the biggest part, of a child's influence. Morals, lessons, mannerisms: they were often reflections of their parents. Of course, there were exceptions, but it didn't make the obvious influence any less true. He worried it would result in disconnect with Reginald and Cloris, with the memories and all.

By four years old, Hadrianus was completely influenced by his memories. Any person he might have developed into under their parentage would never be. Harry's life formed who he was, what he stood for. If he were to be honest, he wondered how long it would take for his parents to notice the extent of his maturity. There had been a few hints of his intelligence, but nothing too revealing so far; however, it wouldn't last forever.

The recollection of Harry's memories made Hadrianus find amusement in his given name. They were quite similar and he was grateful for the familiarity. He had been nervous about being a Carrow, though. It meant he was related to Amycus and Alecto. In fact they were his second cousins—they had the same great-grand parents. Amycus was three years older than Hadrianus and Alecto was but a year older. He encountered them a few times at family-get-togethers, and he was happy to say they were still sane. They were, however, a little overindulged. He could currently tolerate them, but he hardly liked them.

In all honesty, he didn't know what to expect by being a Carrow. He found out that Amycus and Alecto weren't in the main branch of the family. It was actually quite a large family.

He wondered how he didn't notice it as Harry, but passed it off as he was ignorant for the longest time and he had more than enough responsibilities thrust upon him.

The current head was Gulliver Carrow, his grandfather. His Uncle Vormiter was next in line. He was Reginald's oldest. He has yet to marry and prefers to gallivant the world. He could be amusing at times, annoying at others. He definitely held some vanity—though, with his looks he can get away with it. One thing he definitely lacked was responsibility. Well, that wasn't completely true. He was responsible for himself, but he was an individualist. He took care of himself and he would never be leader material. It didn't mean he couldn't care for others, he could; it's just that he would always place himself of the upmost importance.

Then, more importantly, there were his parents. They were the ones he would have to spend many years with, at least until he becomes of age. They cared for him, Hadrianus gave them that.

Cloris has wavy coppery blond hair and dark storm blue eyes; the eye colour he inherited from her.

His mother wished him good health and helped him much during recollection period. She wasn't overbearing, though her words would almost seem so since he was unused to the parental affections. She was a housewife and his early educator. She was the one to teach him to read and write, fairly easy considering circumstances. She was also insightful to wizarding customs and general knowledge. There were things that she would teach him that he didn't know despite his 17 years living in the Wizarding World.

She was motherly to him, but it wasn't like how Molly treated her children. He wondered if it was because the Carrows were a more traditionally family, because they were considered dark, or simply a difference in personalities. As a male he didn't understand motherly instincts or how they function. He also didn't have anyone else to compare to. Cloris was mildly proper. She grew up a Cornfoot so her lineage so she knew proper mannerisms, posture, and a bunch of other boring stuff. When she acted all proper, though, it didn't look like a stick was shoved up her ass. It looked natural and relaxed. It was second nature to her. She tried to teach her son too, but she wasn't in a hurry to do so. She did it little by little. Sometimes simply fixing his mistakes as he made them. He was still a kid so it wasn't do or die, which was reassuring.

Cloris did not spoil him, though she often gave him what he wanted since he rarely asked for things. Unfortunately, it was something that was drilled into him from the Dursleys. He was used to getting things on his own than relying on others. She was quite the individualist. It was probably how she landed in Ravenclaw when she attended Hogwarts. With her intelligence and ability to think for herself, he would have thought that she would have gotten a job. He had questioned her once but merely responded that she was happy as she was. Whether that meant she didn't want to, she'd rather spend her time with him, or she was raised to be a housewife—which wouldn't be too odd since it was the mid-20th century—he didn't know.

Her individualistic tendencies made sure that she rarely protected him from his own mistakes; though, one could always tell when she disapproved. If he tried to do something truly idiotic or it involved other parties, she would come fiercely to his aid.

Yes, Hadrianus may not be coddled, but he was loved. Her supportive words, tender touches, and adoring eyes supported that.

Yet that didn't stop Cloris from also being acute, a gossiper (at least that's what he thinks she does at those girl-get-togethers), and a blood purist. Thankfully, they weren't Voldemort's followers—he wasn't sure what he would do if they were. Lord Voldemort may not take any action until the 70s but he was surely gathering members.

His father, Reginald, was different from Hadrianus' mum. He was much more distant to him, but showed his love in another ways. He was regal in his own way. Dark hair, good posture (in front of an audience at least), and neat. He didn't spend much quality time with the man, so it always felt nice when Reginald wanted to spend time with him. He works for the ministry for Runes and Symbols.

It was a subject Harry took special interest during the war. There was plenty of time stuck in houses wasting time—they were that hopeless. Harry took particular interest in infusing runes and magic for on-the-spot magic. There had been some texts for some simple spells—the theory wasn't first developed by Harry—by a few witches and wizards back in the 14th century but it was never fully developed because the experimental process had often been dangerous and explosive. Hadrianus was happy to know that Reginald had many texts dedicated to the subject to which his mother allowed him to read thinking it was healthy to have interests and that he wouldn't understand the more complicated texts.

She was wrong.

With the exceptions of not being "evil", not being a death eater, and not having a bursting temper, Reginald was the embodiment of what Harry believed dark families to be when he was a teenager. He had been in Slytherin, had high self-preservation, does more than drabble in the Dark Arts, possessed several dark artefacts, believes in the importance of blood purity, and hates muggles.

Reginald was subtle, though. It was part of his nature. He wasn't attention seeking and liked to do things subtlety. He would be more than happy if he could fade into the background. He, by no means, possessed leadership qualities. He was an ideas man. He formulates his own ideas and opinions, but he wasn't eloquent—not if he were to compare himself to many other power political players. No, he preferred to stick to family affairs; that's where he had any real control.

Family was important to him. Someone mess with family and he would deal with the offender. Whether he particularly liked them or not, he took care of them. It was because of this that many Carrows wished Reginald had been the older brother. He held responsibility for the family, unlike Vormiter.

Hadrianus sighed. He worried about what the future had in store. Even if it wasn't a perfect one, it would be nice to have a family when he accomplished his mission.

…If he accomplishes his mission.

Hadrianus' stomach turns and blood boils at the thought of his failure. He couldn't let that happen.

* * *

Mum had dragged him to _Twilfitt and Tattings_ to buy some new robes and travelling cloaks. As he stood bored, occasionally being pricked by needles, he remembered why he didn't want to go to Diagon Alley.

Hadrianus' mood deflated as he was bored and Cloris was in an animated discussion with an employee.

"I must say you have exquisite taste in fashion," said Cloris to the employee fitting her son. She needed some new robes as well, but wanted to see her son's new wardrobe first. He grows so fast. He was seven now, eight next month.

"Thank you. I've just finished my internship with Lauren Keller. I'm fairly new working here. Started only three months ago. Oh, where are my manners. I'm Bianca Prismall." Hadrianus found their chatter useless and pointless. He didn't particularly care about his clothes as long as they weren't hideous, and even then he would probably still where them. He had worn Dudley's hand-me-downs at one point, after all. If he could wear those, he could wear almost anything.

"Prismall? You wouldn't happen to be related to Tom Prismall?" Cloris' attention was fully on the girl which confused Hadrianus. Who was Tom Prismall? He didn't recognize the name. He paid closer attention because his mother's interest is not easily caught.

"Oh yes! He's my dad. Have you met him?"

Cloris was pensive. Probably remembering the guy. "Once." She looked over to him which he found odd. During their talk, there had been little attention on him. "When I was pregnant with Hadrianus. Excuse me for saying so but he was odd, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say the circumstances were odd. He was working for the ministry, an unspeakable he was—not sure if he still is." Bianca nodded her head as indication that he was still an unspeakable. "There were problems with one of their trackers. I'm not sure if I wish to know what they study in that department. He and two others entered our home with accusations that my husband and I were messing with time. Barmy they were. As if time could be messed with."

Hadrianus looked away. So his arrival had been tracked. He didn't know whether to be impressed that they had caught the unknown magic or depressed that time magic was still being developed. The time turner probably wasn't even developed yet.

Whatever chatter continued after was lost on him.

"There you go."

Hadrianus sighed in relief. It was done. Only know it was his mum's turn so he groaned. "Mum."

"Hmm. Yes Hadrianus?" He was happy that Hadrianus was his name and not someone else's. It's a mouthful. He wondered why she didn't just call him Hadrian or Harry as a nickname.

"Can I go look at brooms or something?" he asked in a bit of a begging tone. He didn't want to look at clothes any longer than he had to. She must have understood because she agreed.

"Just be careful. Ever since Nobby Leach was elected as Minister for Magic there have been plenty of riots. If another breaks out then avoid it," she said. It was true. Minister Leach was the first Muggle-born Minister for Magic in Britain's Ministry of Magic's existence. It was symbolic to many. There were Squib Rights Marches and there was the retaliations, the pure-blood riots. He wanted to groan at it all. He should probably care more about it because he wanted to make changes, but most things paled in comparison to the Witch Hunt.

Walking down Diagon Alley he recalled some of the events. The nightmares might be rarer now, but they've never diminished. They were constant reminders of their failures—of his failures. He remembered the flames, the burning, the bombs. The muggle-borns were the easiest for the military to locate. The 90s had much improvement in information technology. There was also formation of the Human Genome Project, use of DNA identification significantly rose, and new forms of communication were invented. From there on, into the 21st century, technology was improving at a faster rate and identification was easy.

All muggle-borns are guaranteed to have records in the muggle world. Their birth records, early education, hospital records, and so on. The government had it all. Usually those kinds of files would eventually end up being protected by the British Prime Minister, Tony Blair, but when wizards, witches and magical creatures—many in which were considered threatening to the British public—he succumb to the pressure of the public, media, and his fellow MPs and declared that he was being controlled which caused further outrage.

The files led the military to their families. Some were truly loyal to their children. Some were tortured or killed, which was allowed under a new act formed in parliament to deal with the _freaks_. Others gave in and told them what they could. Some because they disapproved of their magic to begin with, others because of fear, and some because as much pain it was to sell-out their child, they had more family to protect. Nothing about the situation was kind. It was so cruel that they turned their backs on some of the people they had sworn to protect.

He remembered some of his friends having their wands broken by them before being beaten to a bloody pulp. He can remember cries and pleads. He remembers tear stained faces, the constant wariness-even in hiding.

And the pain. He knew the pain all too well. He didn't come out unscathed. Aside from paranoia to the extreme, he had been physically injured. He remembered being shot twice. Once in his left shoulder and once his right thigh. All the pain, all the pressure. It was insane to handle. He had cracked a few times. Once he tried to commit suicide by drinking poison, but Luna found him and saved him. He had recovered in a week.

It was one of the reasons why Luna's death had been so hard on him. He could do nothing for her. She had saved him, she was his friend, and yet he could do nothing.

Hadrianus snapped out of his thoughts, in a startles jump, when an owl screech. He tried to clear his mind as he made his way over to _Broomstix_. He'd probably paranoid for the next hour now.

He gazed at the brooms in yearning. He wished his parent would buy him a broom. He wouldn't be able to ride it often. Actually, he wouldn't be able to ride it at home. They lived in downtown Crewe, Cheshire East, England. If he even walked outside with it, there would probably be at least a few odd stares. If they visited one of their cottages or the main house, he'd be able to but not in Crewe.

The Carrows were pure-bloods and were a large family, but they weren't rich. Not likes the Malfoys, the Blacks, or the Potters. They weren't poor, though. There were well-off. Many members held good-paying employment too. They did have plenty of property, though. Mostly inheritance of branches of the family that died. Others were gained centuries back through other means.

He hadn't even turned eight yet, and he has already been to more countries than in his life as Harry. Harry had never left the U.K. He'd been in Britain and Scotland. As Hadrianus, he'd already visited Germany, Norway, Finland, and Liechtenstein. Harry had never even heard of a country named Liechtenstein before. He learnt is was a small principality completely surrounded by Switzerland and Austria.

"Do you fly?"

Hadrianus couldn't believe who had just spoke to him. Shoulder-length blond hair. Grey eyes. Pale complexion. Before he could stop himself, he blurted out the boy's name in bewilderment, "_Lucius Malfoy_."

He hadn't seen the many in… well, he lost track to how many years. Harry didn't know much about the man—err, boy. He only knew from the series of short interactions he had with him and from what Draco told him. What he was sure of is that there are a few defining features that Lucius live by. Malfoy liked his status politically, by blood status, and through his finances. Malfoy enjoyed being a major player and living the high life. Voldemort was held on the same rating at the other luxuries that Malfoy would never willingly surrender. The only thing that he held greater than that was himself. His self-preservation was something he was obsessed about. It was something that made Hadrianus twitch. He was all for protecting yourself, but Lucius gave self-preservation a whole new meaning. To the point he would discard all else.

That was all he knew. Lucius wasn't someone Harry associated with for obvious reasons. But the boy in front of him wasn't determined by his future self. It was the boy in front of him that would determine who his future self was.

"You know who I am?" Lucius was used to having people recognize his parents. His features gave most people the hint of who he was, but they could never be certain. More importantly, if someone did recognize him as a Malfoy, he still had to introduce himself. He may be from a prominent family, but he was still a child, so therefore, still a nobody—as much as that annoyed him.

Hadrianus remained silent. What was he supposed to say? Malfoy was a distinct line, but it's not like someone else couldn't have similar features. He had never really interacted with those outside the Carrows. It was usually with the excuse that he was too young. He realized that Lucius was still awaiting an answer. He would just have to go with it. "Yep. You're the Malfoy heir, aren't you? Lucius Malfoy?"

Lucius' chest puffed out in self-importance. "So do you fly?" he repeated the original question. "My father got me one for my birthday. It's a Cleansweep Five. The model is nearly a decade old, but mother wouldn't allow me anything faster." Harry wanted to laugh. Ancient indeed. He still remembered when Draco commented on the twins' brooms saying they had been outdated. The exact words being 'I expect a museum would bid for them.' Now that implied that Lucius was ancient. At the same time, he was also drawing parallels with Draco. Once he had really gotten to know him, he compared Draco more to his mother than his father. But it was times like these that Harry was reminded that Draco still had very much been Lucius' son. Remembering made him wistful.

"I don't own a broom, but I want one. Flying would be brilliant. Mum's always thought me too young. I tried to borrow one from my relatives at our get-togethers, but they are so possessive. I'm not sure owning one would make much of a difference, though." Hadrianus began to stumble on his words. He usually wasn't this talkative. He'd hope his vocabulary just came off that he was smart. "I live in town around muggles, so the use of it would be restricted anyhow." He wanted to slap himself. He'd just stopped himself from using his vocabulary only to continue with his diction.

Lucius wrinkled his nose. "Really? That must suck—living around muggles that is. I live in a manor. We own plenty of land, so I'm free to fly when I want." The bland warily eyed him now. "What did you say your name was?" Oh yes, this was definitely Lucius. He already prejudice against blood. It wasn't a surprise really. His father was already a Death Eater. And like Draco, Lucius was apparently frivolously trying to be like his father.

"Hadrianus Carrow."

Lucius relaxed and seemed pleased. It was probably because the Carrows were a known dark family at part of the sacred twenty-eight. He wondered what the reaction would have been if he said another name.

Then they returned to converse about broomsticks and quidditch. It was normal. It was eerie to think he was having an average conversation with Lucius Malfoy.

"Lucius." Their chatter ended as Abraxas Malfoy approached his son.

"Father. Are you done your business?"

Abraxas eyes flickered to Hadrianus. "Who's your friend?"

On instinct, Hadrianus fixed his posture. He knew that tone from his mother. Abraxas eyes were calculating and sizing him. He resisted the urge to gulp. Hadrianus cleared his mind to help him calm down before introducing himself. "Hadrianus Carrow. Pleasure to meet you Lord Malfoy." He extended his hand to the elder man.

At first Abraxas didn't move. There was a wave of relief when he was deemed worthy enough. Abraxas took Hadrianus' hand and shook it as per original intention.

"Carrow you say," said Abraxas in an inquisitive voice. "Who're your parents? Perhaps I know them." He seemed to be gauging something. Hadrianus didn't know if that was good or not.

"Reginald and Cloris née Cornfoot."

"Ah." Lord Malfoy seemed to be pleased with the response. "If I recall, Cloris was in my year. Ravenclaw correct? Yes, she was smart and could tell the right sort from the wrong. Reginald was in my own house—Slytherin. He was a few years above my own, so we never spoke often. I see them at events every so often." Meaning his parents were acceptable in Malfoy's view but didn't know them too well. Good. "Lucius, say goodbye to your friend. We must be on our way."

"Bye Hadrianus—say… what's your address? I'll send you a letter so we can get together some time. If you ever get a broom, you can come over to fly." Lucius seemed excited at the prospect of being able to fly with someone.

"10 Audley Street, Crewe."

Lucius grinned. "Mine is Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire. I'll be sure to be in touch." And with that the Malfoys apparated away.

Hadrianus stared at the brooms one last time. They wouldn't nearly be as fast as he was accustomed to, but he yearned to feel the breeze against his face and the rush of adrenaline without being in any danger. It had been so long since he last ridden a broom.

He turned around at the call of his mother. She was carrying a bag with their new robes. "There you are. Come on. We're stopping at Rosa Lee Teabag before returning home."

* * *

Hadrianus sat at the desk in the study. He had a runes book open and made some notes in his black journal.

There wasn't much he could do at the moment. He thought about running away to start to make a difference, but it would be pointless. What could he do? He didn't even have a wand.

He didn't know what he could do. He could try to become Minister for Magic and change laws to better protect him, but it would be futile if war broke out and exposed them. Hostility in Britain was increasing. Hostility lead to radicalisation from both sides. He couldn't compare to Grindelwald's reign because it never truly reached Britain, only grazed. This time, Britain was the central focus. Centuries of pent up ideologies. The truth to the matter was that any clear minded person could see the corruptness in the radicalisation of Dark and Light. Things that would have once been unacceptable become acceptable if it meant succeeding. It was a terrible mess.

Perhaps if he could round the ideologies into something moderate. But no, some people were too far in already. Voldemort would have been making plans for decades already.

Thinking about Voldemort, he wasn't sure what to do about him. He didn't really know him to be anything other than a psychopathic Dark Lord who was spellbound on killing him. Since there currently was no prophecy, he was probably more self-assured with his power. Maybe he had reasonable goals at some point in time. Maybe. His first horcrux was created when he was still in school. Maybe he was just overly paranoid at the thought of death. Or he really could be a lunatic. Hadrianus needed to do something about him, but first he would need to get an assessment on the man. That meant he would have to meet Voldemort. He wasn't ready for that kind of encounter yet since it was too unpredictable.

He wanted to groan. The horcruxes. He thought he was done with those a long time ago. Though, he could happily claim he wasn't one this time. It was currently November 18, 1962. It meant that Voldemort has already made the Diadem, the Cup, the Ring, the Diary, and possibly the Locket into horcruxes. At the very least, they would be good bargaining tools. He needed them whether for bribery or to destroy them. The Malfoys _might_ have the Diary. The Ring _should _be at the Riddle house in Little Hangleton. He didn't know if the Diadem was in Hogwarts yet, but he could wait for that. The Cup was who knows where and if the Locket had already been made into a horcrux, then he didn't know where it was.

He couldn't just wait forever. He came back for a reason. To make changes.

Then once he figured out how to deal with Voldemort he still had to figure out what to do with the light side. They increasingly were becoming radical too. Then there was the ministry. There needed to be internal changes. There was so much to do. He didn't know where to begin. Lost in a tangent of thoughts, he panicked.

"Melby!" A house-elf popped into the room. One of the two who worked in this particular home. Melby wore a clean pillowcase for her uniform. He remember giving it to her. His mother had given him a strange look at the event. Melby took it as an insult, so he came up with something along the lines that she got to wear something clean and Hadrianus would be happier looking at her. A complete lie, but Melby took the pristine white pillowcase in the end. He did the same with Squeebles, the other house-elf. He came to enjoy their company when his parents were out—even if they did wish to ferociously serve him.

"Master Hadrianus wants something?"

"Could you please bring me some tea?"

Melby glowed. "Of course! Melby be back with Master Hadrianus' tea." She disappeared from the room.

Harry returned to his notes. Pushing his plans aside he returned to his theories. If he was still too young to officially do anything, then he would just prepare himself magically until he got a bit older. That and maybe implicitly make some alliances. The more people who agreed with him meant less radicals.

Hadrianus closed the book and placed it back on the shelf. He went to reach for another when a title of another caught his eyes. _History of Dark Magic_. He let his curiosity take over and chose that book instead.

He knew a bit of dark magic. There were plenty of books in the house, and to ignore them would be stupid. Harry had also start to lightly drabble with the dark arts in the war. Anything to keep his friends and him safe. Harry had gotten past the all dark magic was evil, especially upon discovering _muffliato _was considered a dark spell. It was when his curiosity spiked into dark magic. It was hard to get much information on the classifications, though, since every answer he came across tended to be bias. The book might not be much better, but every story helped him put some pieces together in trying to understanding it.

Melby returned with the tea and silently placed in on the desk before disappearing once more. She remained silent as she noticed his enraptured interest in the book.

It was quite interesting. He didn't know how much was accurate, but plenty of it made sense to him. Dark magic was originally a classification made by muggles. There had been an upward trend of muggle-borns being introduced into Wizarding society. Like foreigners, they brought their own culture with them. It wasn't a big deal at first, but when, intersubjectively, they constantly made connection to dark magic as evil, it started to turn into a collective thought for some half-bloods and pure-bloods. Time was all that was needed from there to change some opinions.

There were plenty of gaps in the book. Some bigoted comments included. He wouldn't assume there was one book with all the answers, though. The books gave him some insight though, and some concepts make a lot of sense. It would explain why traditionally dark families hate muggles and muggle-borns. He wasn't so stupid and blind to believe that it was the reason why they were so hated _today_. No, most of the current prejudice came from superiority complexes and influence of generations of hatred, which is why the books explanation could be feasible.

He continued to read, but it was late and he was tired. He tried to continue reading despite that, but fell asleep in the chair.

Melby had returned to pick up the dishes only to notice her young master asleep. It just wouldn't do, so she brought him to his bed and tucked him in.

Similarly, Cloris had noticed the time and went to see if her son was asleep. She found him sound asleep in bed.

She made her way to the study. She had plenty of her own novels in there and she quite enjoyed to read before she went to bed. She was just going to go in to exchange the book she had recently finished for a new one when she saw an open book on the desk. The assumption was that her husband had forgotten to put it away. She froze as she looked at the contents. It was notes about runes, symbols, and magic.

Now it wasn't odd for members to write out their researches for future family use. However, it was decided years ago that her husband would keep his work at work. She knew of her husband's interest in the topic, but some of the writing within was medieval thoughts. Well, developed medieval thoughts. Quite astounding the development was. She was an intellect and she tried to connect all the references in the notes. She almost thought it would be plausible. She didn't want to try it since it would be experimental. Her husband would have told her if he had made such a discovery.

Why hadn't he told her about this? If she were him, she would be off perfecting this knowledge to make it usable. It was a great discovery!

She entered their room in a rush wanting to question him, but found he was already asleep. She would question him in the morning.

* * *

_**For the record: mentions of Tony Blair is only used because he was in office from 1997-2007. Definitely within the interval when wizards and witches were revealed. I am in no way advocating either way for UK politics (Even if I wanted to, it would be pointless because I don't live in the U.K.)._

_***For those of you who want to know more about the war… well there will be plenty of explanations throughout the story. ^-^_

_I'm surprised at the response I got—especially just for a prologue—and so quickly too. I just had to work on this right away. Of course, now I've got to catch up on my school work (meaning I won't be updating within the next few days as I've got to write approx. 20 pages worth of essays to write and start desperately studying for my coming exams… and I mean desperately)._

_Next Chapter: Toujours Purs _(a lot of interaction with the Black family coming up!)


	3. Toujours Purs

Rewriting History

Chapter 3: Toujours Purs

* * *

Reginald had been enjoying his breakfast when he caught sight of his wife. He prepared himself. Something was off. There was a wicked glint in her eyes that confused him and she sported a wild grin; from excitement or being vengeful, he couldn't tell. Honestly, she was confusing him. Why must women be so difficult?

Cloris dropped a black leather bound book on the table, causing a slight rumbling. She sat in her seat ignoring her food, preferring to keep her eyes on him. Had he done something wrong?

He knew better than to speak out. In times like these, it was better to let his wife get the first word. From there he could deduce what his course of action should be.

She shoved the book across the table closer to him. His eyes grazed the cover. A title nor author was printed on it. Was it supposed to have some significance?

"When were you going to tell me?"

"Tell you what?" He was confused, plain and simple.

"I know we promised that you would keep your work at your office, but I think great discoveries should still be shared with me. Have you tried your theories? Does it work? If your conclusions are true then you'll be famous. They said it was too dangerous, that it couldn't be done. I've looked over the theory—I hope you don't mind—but I think you may have the solution to the problem that has stumped wizards and witches alike for centuries!" Cloris' tone was consistently changing. She had been stern, irritated, happy, and then excited.

"What are you going off on?"

"Don't play dumb. I'm not stupid," she snapped.

"I haven't a clue what you are talking about."

She blinked, eyeing him warily. "Your notes in that black book of yours."

"This isn't mine," Reginald informed her.

Cloris scrunched her face in thought. As she did so, Reginald's eyes flicked to the black book. What was in it that made her so eager? To think it held a new discovery was intriguing. He wondered why she assumed it was because of him. He couldn't help himself. Reginald took the book in his hands and carefully opened the book as if it was about to shatter.

Opening the book, he was surprised. It was hand written. He may not know every book he possessed, but he was fairly certain he had never seen the book before. He flipped through the pages, skimming the content. The books had plenty of notes, some spells, some irrelevant comments—then he reached something of his interests: runes and symbols. It would make sense for his wife to assume him if it was about runes. He looked at the diagrams and read through the extensive notes out of curiosity.

He was baffled. It-it wasn't just about runes. It was about _runic magic_! He felt his excitement grow and his blood boiled in anticipation to try it. Never mind the repercussions, if not done properly, would be more than sever at its worse.

"It's—it's not yours?"

Reginald grudgingly removed his eyes from the book to look at his wife. "Of course not, though I wish I knew who did."

"But…" Cloris seemed uncomfortable now. "You don't understand, Reggie." Her voice sounded lost as she addressed him with a childhood nickname. "It was in our home. In our study."

Reginald frowned. He may not have gone through every book they owned. That would take a lifetime, minimum. Perhaps multiple lives worth of reading. Many were worthless, but that was aside the point. He'd read extensively through many of the runic books. He'd never seen it before.

"It was out on the desk, opened," she continued.

That had him alarmed. He tried to calm himself down thinking perhaps his son had found the book to read, but dismissed it. If someone in his family really did accomplish the theory they would want public recognition of it. But then who had gotten into their house, without his and Cloris' knowing, and simply left it?

Reginald quickly grabbed his wand and tested the book for any curses. "It isn't cursed." He supposed he should have been relieved, but now it was a bigger mystery.

He open his mouth to say something when a loud crashing noise was made from upstairs, startling them. They stood immediately and rushed up the stairs with their wands in hand.

They heard grumbling noises from their study and they warily approached the room. This was probably the same person who broke in before.

Opening the door, Cloris shrieked while he lowered his wand, but keeping it in hand just in case.

"Hadrianus!" Cloris rushed to her son who was on the floor with a shattered bust.

"Mum?" His voice was guilty, but it wasn't for the bust. It was for the study that was now a mess via him.

She helped him up before going on her knees to look her son in the eyes. She continued on to look for any injuries, but aside from a few possible bruises, there was nothing.

"Are you alright? What happened?" She patted his shoulders and arms before taking her son's face in her hands, looking in him eyes as if they would give him an answer.

The question made him uncomfortable. He didn't want to answer that unless he had to. Hadrianus noticed that Reginald was still wary. He decided to put his father's anxiety to rest. "You can relax. It was only me. I'm sorry about the mess."

"Hadrianus!" Cloris scolded her son. "Why would you do such a thing?"

"I was just—I fell asleep in here last night and left something of mine. I was trying to find it; but when I couldn't, I got frustrated and thrashed the room." It was embarrassing to admit. He wasn't a child—not really. He shouldn't have tantrums, even if he's seen other grownups have them from time to time.

Reginald put his wand away. His mind working on overdrive. It was like he was missing something. Something obvious that would solve the pieces of the puzzle. Something was missing and he couldn't figure out what. It was quite frustrating.

Cloris wasn't sure if she was relieved or disappointed. Hadrianus shouldn't have made the room a mess. Okay, it was more than a mess—it was a disaster. But children normally make messes, right? It was finally something he did that kids normally do. Aside from the nightmares he used to have (and continue to have on occasions) that made him vulnerable, he was hardly a normal child. He was her only child, so she couldn't compare him to a sibling. However, many of her friends and acquaintances had children. Sometimes as their gatherings, they would chat about their children. She always felt odd because Hadrianus didn't act like the others. She should have been aware of it sooner, but she had been blind.

Hadrianus rarely played games. The only time he really did, was if he was invited to play and the only real interaction he had was with his family. He'd prefer to spend his time in the study, reading, or talking to the house elves. Whenever he would get hurt, he never cried. They may have only been artificial wounds, but other parents always said their children make a big deal of the smallest things.

Hadrianus happily listened to her as she taught him. The other kids like to whine about their lessons unless it was something of interest. Then when their attention was caught, it was hard to keep it. Her son's mind might wander sometimes, but it was because he caught on quickly. Perhaps too quickly. Though, there were times that she would say something, and his whole face would light up in curiosity and wonderment. It was those times that she felt fulfilled.

And those conversations they sometimes had! They normally started with a simple question and would start off innocent, but, upon reflection, they were more like debates. Some in which she would question what she knows after. It just wasn't normal!

Yet she loved her son and would protect him from the world if she had too—normal or not.

"What was it you lost? I'll help you," said Cloris. Reginald didn't miss the way Hadrianus whitened to the question. It was obvious it was something he shouldn't have.

Hadrianus thought out his words carefully. "A journal." Reginald came to the assumption that it was a book from a section he shouldn't have touched. Some were cursed or had other cautions that came with them that shouldn't be touched by children. "It's black…and leather-bound. The cover is blank. You know, the one you both bought me a few years ago." Of course, his parents didn't remember something as insignificant as a journal.

Cloris' face scrunched, confused, as she attempted to remember it. It never crossed her mind of the subject her husband and her had been discussion moments before.

Reginald was less emotionally attached, in this case, and connected the dots together. He suddenly grabbed his son's arm against his will and his wife's cries. He pulled him down to the dining area and pushed him down in a chair. He didn't miss how Hadrianus' eyes caught sight of the book, which was still on the table, and refused to look away.

"Reginald Dorian Carrow! What do you think you are doing to _our_ son?"

Despite the fury Cloris radiated, Reginald ignored her. "Is this yours?" He shoved the book towards his son.

"Are you insane? This is our son. He's only a child. He hasn't even shown signs of possessing magic yet."

Reginald glowered. He didn't need a reminder that his son hasn't shown an ounce of magic yet. He was nearly eight and it was humiliating. There was usually some sort of mild indication by now.

"What are you talking about? I've shown signs of magic." Hadrianus' voice cut through the thick atmosphere. As if to prove a point, Harry extended his arm and his journal came flying into his hand, much to his parents' amazement.

"Since when?"

"I've been able to do that for a while now." It wasn't hard to descry that Reginald had seen the work in the book. Perhaps Cloris too, but he couldn't be sure. Hadrianus was hoping to use his magic as a distraction that they would forget about the book. Unfortunately, his father seemed keen on getting the answers he wanted.

"Not now dear," said Reginald as he watched his son try to manipulate the situation. While he should be disappointed that his wife fell for it, he did feel proud of his son for managing to do it—and do it on the spot. If the person in front of him was indeed his son, that is. "Where did you get that?"

Hadrianus didn't like to be interrogated, but knew the situation would be worse if he remained quiet. "I told you, you gave it to me two, maybe three, years ago."

"And who wrote the contents in it?" Reginald was reaching for his wand. Again, movement his son caught. He was much too aware of his surroundings.

Reluctantly he answered, "I did."

Cloris gasped in disbelief. She approached the two wary of what her husband was doing. "Reggie, that can't be. It has—"

"I said quiet!" he snapped at his wife. No matter how intelligent she was, she was weak when it came to their son. The problem was he wasn't sure the boy in front of him was really his son. His eyes pieced the boy in the chair who seemed ready to run at any moment. "Who are you? What have you done with my son?"

"I haven't done anything to him. I am him!" Hadrianus felt his anger rise.

Reginald whipped out his wand and pointed it at his son, who in turn predicted the action but was trapped in a chair with nowhere to escape.

"Legilimens."

He panicked. He couldn't let anyone invade his mind. He'd already began to practice occlumency when all his memories returned. It wasn't safe for his mind to be open to others. Especially if he was planning on confronting Voldemort, who was an excellent legilimens. While he had been able to make mental barriers, it still wasn't his forte—meaning he either protected his whole mind or none of it.

He wasn't about to let someone poke through his head when they could see anything so it was only worsening the situation. Someone his age shouldn't be capable of such a feat and Reginald would only be more wary of him.

His thoughts became reality as Reginald was immediately pushed out of his son's head. "I knew you weren't my son." That commented hurt much more than it should have. To him, James and Lily would always be considered his parents; however, Reginald and Cloris have come to fill a certain void.

Cloris seemed to put together what happen. If she had been frantic before, she was in hysterics now. "Hadrianus," she whimpered. "What did you do with my son? I want my son back!" It was idiotic, especially for her and she knew it, but she went up to the boy she thought was an imposter and began to shake him. Her eyes shined with unshed tears.

"I'm telling you it's me!"

Reginald, having had enough pleasantries, went for the first attack. Hadrianus had managed to escape the chair after Cloris shook him and managed to dodge the first few spells. He didn't last long as he was hit by a spell that was powerful enough to send him flying into the wall. It hurt…a lot. When he refused to say anything other than he was their son, Reginald did something that he would soon regret.

"Crucio."

Hadrianus screamed and withered on the floor. Harry may have been hit by the spell before, but that didn't make him immune. He way have faced many different abuses before, but it didn't lessen the pain, physically or emotionally—for being hit by an unforgivable by his own father. Unlike when he was Harry, though, this body wasn't use to pain. It didn't know how to tolerate it, so when the curse stopped, his body would still convulse. His magic was restrained to wandless use, which meant almost no magic was at his disposal. There was nothing he could do.

He tried to tell them stories, things only he should know. Reginald didn't buy it. If he knew occlumency then, in his father's mind, he could also know legilimens and gotten those memories from their "real" son.

Thankfully, Cloris came to his rescue. "Stop it! Stop it!"

"You can't possibly believe him, Cloris. He's done things our son shouldn't be able to do."

Hadrianus wanted to comment that he shouldn't be able to, but can. The wiser part of him stopped him from saying it.

"Reggie," she was crying now. His strong, independent mother reduced to crying. He'd never seen her cry before. He didn't like it. "It's been nearly an hour and a quarter."

"What's your point?"

"Polyjuice is the only way to turn into someone else. It only lasts for an hour."

Reginald suddenly felt horrid. His stomach dropped and his heart rate accelerated. Any noise around him became distant sounds. He looked at the boy on the ground. Ignoring the impossible things he's done, he was his son. An apparent genius, but more importantly, he'd just accused him of being someone else, attacked, and tortured him. He didn't believe his own son. He couldn't say anything. He couldn't even spew an apology.

He rushed out of the room, not quite in a run.

The door slammed shut in anger and Cloris took this time to rush to her son's side. She was still crying as she watched his body trembled. His voice was hoarse as he tried to speak. She ordered Sqeebles to bring a glass of water. His eyes wide as he took in the dining room and panicked at looking at Hadrianus' form.

"Be back. Bring Master Hadrianus potion too," the house-elf mumbled frantically to himself as he went to follow orders.

She held him tighter to her. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Meanwhile, Reginald wasn't faring any better than Cloris. Only instead of tears, he took his anger out on his bedroom. He kicked the nightstand, causing the lamp to crash onto the floor, he chucked pillows, and punched the wall—anything to relieve the anger that swelled within him. He was ashamed of himself. How could he ever make it up to his son? He probably couldn't.

Everyone in the house was miserable. They were an emotional wreck, and the house itself was a disaster.

* * *

The next few weeks past in uncomfortable silence. The three Carrows left each other to their own devices. No one could start the inevitable conversation without their emotions getting the better of them. There was little chatter between the three during those week, and they were just hollow pleasantries.

One morning, at breakfast, Cloris spoke. Of course, it still avoided the issue, but it was more than expected. "Be prepared to leave by 10. You may want to bring a book or something to keep you occupied. We could be a while."

"You're bringing me?" If she was going to a friend's house than it was unexpected. Normally, he just stayed home with Reginald or with Melby and Sqeebles.

"I'm going as well," said Reginald. "We are meeting up with some acquaintances. Orion and Walburga Black are head of the Black family and are hosting us. Alphard, Cygnus and Druella will be joining us as well. Matilda and Emeric Parkinson too. Their children shall be there if you fancy yourself company. Our discussion…it could take a while."

"What of the Lestranges, dear?"

"According to the letter I received this morning, they've already made their decision." Cloris turned solemn to the news.

Hadrianus didn't like the sound of it. It sounded like they were going to be discussing Voldemort. He could just be imagining it because he was paranoid, but now he really wanted to eavesdrop. Too bad he didn't have the Weasley twins and their devices. It would have made this much simpler.

The second thought he had was Grimmauld Place. It's been so long since he'd been there. Walburga was alive and definitely not a portrait. And…Sirius! He would get to see Sirius. He would be, what? Three right now? But it didn't matter because he was going to see Sirius and he would be alive. His mood significantly brightened.

Perhaps the day wouldn't be too bad.

* * *

They apparated to London, a few blocks away from the Black family home. Apparently, the ministry wasn't completely useless. They had made designated apparating areas to help blend into urban areas. Of course, that never stopped people from just apparating directly to where they want to. It happens all the time. The Blacks had certain wards around their home, though. They wouldn't want just anyone to get in. Especially since it was the head house.

They walked to 12 Grimmauld Place—or where it should have been. Reginald tapped his wand against the wall which allowed them to see past one of the charms in place. He remembered being told that Orion had been paranoid about being bothered my muggles, so ended up placing 'every security measure known to wizardkind'. But once he saw the place, it was just like he remembered—except without the fidelius charm on it.

Reginald knocked on the door. They wouldn't be kept waiting long. Hadrianus expected Kreature to open the door, but was surprised when a man did. They were quickly ushered in.

He couldn't help but stare. Orion Black shared many features with Harry's godfather. He was quite tall, probably 6-foot-tall, well-built, darkly handsome man with fair skin, long, lustrous black hair, striking grey eyes, and an air of elegance. He wouldn't say they were mirror images—that'd be incorrect—but there was a strong family resemblance.

It was another thing he never understood. If inbreeding affects wizards and witches as it does muggles, and supposedly responsible for the creation of squibs, why were certain families, like the Blacks, powerful and had good looks. And why weren't "possible half-bloods" who didn't inherit their parents' magic considered squibs if magic was a dominant trait that should guarantee the child magic. So much to learn. It would have to wait for another time.

"Madam Carrow, Reginald, welcome. We'll be spending the day in the drawing room. Alphard and the Parkinsons are already here. We await Cygnus and Druella. Probably being stalled by their girls." Hadrianus could tell he was happy to have boys. "Andromeda and Narcissa are coming over. Bellatrix started Hogwarts this year, so that's one less to worry about." Orion looked at Hadrianus as if noticing him for the first time. "You should be able to provide each other company. If you need to distance yourself from them, I'm sure my sons can do more than provide a distraction for them."

Hadrianus looked unsure. He never thought about what Andromeda and Narcissa would be like in their youth. He did the calculations in his head. Narcissa would be his age—physically, and Andromeda was two years older, making her 9. Fantastic. He wondered if he should be frightened, if Orion's reaction was anything to go by.

"Sirius is three and Regulus has yet to turn two, so as I said, they'll provide you a good distraction."

He already knew what Orion told him, but thought it was only courtesy to thank the man. "Thank you for the forewarning, Lord Black." Orion's father was still alive, but had passed the title as family head down to Orion making him the new lord. "And please thank Lady Black for the hospitality." He was the only child who wouldn't be a Black. The Parkinsons who were visiting had not birthed any children yet.

The more he thought about it, the more he wondered how he was supposed to survive the afternoon. He had the mentality of an adult and two out of the four Black children would be stumbling over words and/or phrases. He was placing all his hope that Andromeda would be tolerable. But if he couldn't survive the day, how would he ever survive Hogwarts.

Orion gave Hadrianus a considering look. He wasn't a child person. He was happy that he had two boys because he was desperately hoping that when they grew older they wouldn't be so needy. But as he watched the Carrows' son, he wondered if his children would turn out like him. Hopefully, they would. It would save him a lot of trouble.

"Reginald, you know where the drawing room is. I'll be there momentarily. I'll show your son the room the kids will be in."

His parents went in the opposite direction that he did. They made it to a room and when the door was opened, it wasn't pleasant. A small boy, who must have been Sirius was tugging at Regulus' hair, causing him to cry as the elder brother grinned in satisfaction.

"Sirius." Sirius looked surprised and gulity.

Hadrianus went for Regulus, picking him up. He was quite large up against him, but, nonetheless, he tried to sooth the toddler as he use to do with Teddy. He winced at the memory. He hadn't been there, but the word was that Edward Lupin had changed his appearance in public. It was before the war with the muggles officially started, so the assumption was that it would have been safe. Teddy didn't even live until he was 5. His death remained on his conscious, though. As his godfather, he should have died for him—just like his parents and godfather died for him.

"It's okay, you're fine." Regulus' cries began to stifle, but sniffled his nose is displeasure.

It was like a miracle, so Orion took the opportunity to leave. Hadrianus noticed too late. Somehow he felt as if there was some elaborate conspiracy to babysit.

"So you must be Regulus."

The boy smiled up at him. He pointed to himself and said, "me Reg'us." He couldn't properly pronounce his name yet, but he couldn't be blamed with the name he had. It wasn't easy for a kid to make the proper mouth and tongue movements.

"Hey! Hey! I'm Sirius." Sirius grinned widely. He was probably happy to have company. Hadrianus wondered when Sirius began to hate his family, or if he's always hated them.

Harry shifted Regulus' weight, since the kid didn't want back down, to free a hand. It was difficult, but he managed it. With his free hand, he ruffled Sirius' hair with a smile of pure bliss. "Nice to meet you too. I'm Hadrianus." Regulus opened and closed his mouth a few times not knowing how to properly say his name. Sirius attempted it a few times. His name came out butchered or incomplete every time. "Err… you can just call me Hadrian or Harry if you want."

Sirius latched onto Hadrianus' leg. This guy was much cooler than his parents or his cousins. "Harry!"

"'Arry." Regulus copied the name.

"So what would the both of you like to do?"

Sirius was happy to have a playmate. "Toys!"

Easier said than done. The two brothers began arguing what to do. A quite incomprehensible argument which was beginning to cause him a headache. "How 'bout I tell you some stories instead?"

Their eyes glittered in excitement. They went over to their fairy tales. There was some shoving in which Regulus got shoved down, but they somehow managed to grab several books before running back over to him. He was already getting comfortable on the floor.

"This one. There dwagon in it." Regulus shoved the book in his face. Hadrianus sputtered as he took the book out of the boy's hands to give him space to breathe. Regulus took a seat on Harry's legs which were crossed. This, of course, made Sirius feel left out.

Sirius pouted as he sat next to Harry. "But I wanna read this one," he whined.

Harry smiled and pulled Sirius closer to him, to the boy's surprise. "I'll read that one next."

Sirius pouted before protesting, "But I doh wanna wait."

"Sirius." Harry found great amusement in Sirius' child behaviour. It seems as though he will never get rid of it.

"Fine," he huffed in defeat.

"Story now?"

"Yes, Regulus. We can read the story now."

* * *

"There you are, Cygnus. We've been waiting for you," said Walburga.

"Thanks for the greeting, dear sister," he replied quite dryly before walking past her to the drawing room.

"Welcome Druella, Andromeda, Narcissa. The boys are upstairs, both mine and the Carrow boy," continued Walburga. She was the older sibling and married to the head of the family, so she didn't care if her tone had not been the happiest. They had a serious discussion ahead of them. Conflicted by her own feelings, she wasn't sure how she wanted the session to end.

"Hello Aunt Walburga. Thanks for having us," said Andromeda who looked at her aunt. She could tell the atmosphere was tense and wanted no part of the grown up discussion. She would be more than happy to disappear and play with her toys. She just hoped that her cousins wouldn't bother her. They were often annoying due to their age. With them it was hard to do anything alone.

"Hi Auntie." Narcissa was only seven. She had brought her dolls to play with. She wouldn't be sharing this time. Last time, Sirius said he wanted to play with her only to rip the head off one. She cried and ran to her mummy who was able to fix it with magic. She wouldn't be trusting him with her things ever again, though.

"You both know where to go. Now please behave for me. And stay up there until we come get you. I'm sure your Aunt Walburga will let you call Kreacher if you need anything. Your father and I will be down here having an important grown up talk," said Druella. She knew Andromeda would understand that this visit meant no kids allowed, but Narcissa wouldn't, so she tried to explain it the best she could.

"Alright, mummy."

"Good." She kiss both her girls' foreheads before ushering them upstairs.

"How long do you honestly think they will last?" asked Walburga as she and her sister-in-law headed to everyone else. She didn't have high hopes that they wouldn't be interrupted.

"Honestly, I say we are lucky if they can get along for a few hours," answered Druella. "You said the Carrow boy is here? How old is he, again? How was he?" She was more interested to know if he would add to the chaos of the rest of the kids. They may be pure-bloods and they may be taught mannerisms and customs, but only so much can be done to a child because that was what they were, children. They were pretty careless and their worries insignificant to one of a grown-up.

"I haven't met him. Orion greeted them. He seems impressed, though, which hopefully means he will not cause any problems. He's your youngest age."

Everyone in the drawing room was sitting at the table. Orion sat at one end and the others sat with their spouse. Druella and Walburga took seats by their husbands.

There was a momentary silence that passed amongst the pure-bloods. Their stares all turned to the host and head of house, Orion Black, to initiate the meeting. "If you were not already notified, then you will notice that the Lestranges, whose absence is ruefully noted, has decided that they need not the consideration of others in this matter." Orion let the information settle in, all understanding the meaning behind those words.

He continued, "The remainder, scions from the Houses of Parkinson, Carrow, and Black, have joined together today to discuss pressing matters that will affect, not only us, but our families and the Wizarding World as a whole. Other members of our families may have been approached as well, or perhaps has already chosen a side. Today we assemble as we know each of us were approached by a…common acquaintance.

"We assemble to consider preeminent course of action we shall take. To each their own conclusion. To each face their own consequences.

"I, Orion Black, swear that today's discussion shall remain within those present."

"I, Walburga Black, swear that today's discussion shall remain within those present."

"I, Cygnus Black, swear that today's discussion shall remain within those present."

"I, Druella Black née Rosier, swear that today's discussion shall remain within those present."

"I, Alphard Black, swear that today's discussion shall remain within those present."

"I, Emeric Parkinson, swear that today's discussion shall remain within those present."

"I, Matilda Parkinson née Fawley, swear that today's discussion shall remain within those present."

"I, Reginald Carrow, swear that today's discussion shall remain within those present."

"I, Cloris Carrow née Cornfoot, swear that today's discussion shall remain within those present."

The magic presence in the room was immense. As it died down, Orion said, "Good. Now straight to business. Each of us have been approached by Lord Voldemort, the next Dark Lord, and have graciously been offered a spot in his ranks. Now what are we to do about it?"

* * *

_*****__Since there isn't enough space to list all the main (significant) characters of this story, I will list it here for anyone interested. In no particular order: Harry Potter (duh), Tom Riddle Jr/Voldemort, Severus Snape, Narcissa Black, Lucius Malfoy, Sirius Black, Alecto Carrow, Amycus Carrow, Andromeda Black, Albus Dumbledore, Amelia Bones, Regulus Black—Yeah, the Blacks have a fairly large role (I should just say the Black Family)—OC (Cloris Carrow), and OC (Reginald Carrow). And of course Harry has the largest role._

_******__Harry can try to act as young as he wants, but after a certain amount of time after you turn an age, you forget what it's like and actions corresponding with age becomes distorted. People were bound to notice his oddity whether they spoke of it or not. _

_*******__I am splitting this chapter from the next one (originally it was just going to be one huge chapter, but I wanted to get something out since it's nearly been a week) so sorry that the Black interaction was cut off early. As it is I should be studying (sleeping actually)._

_********Polyjuice potion really lasts anywhere from 10 minutes to 12 hours. Either consider that it is an updated potion that allows that time frame and that in the early 60s Polyjuice could only last up to an hour or think of it that potions isn't their strong suit (which it wasn't).  
_


End file.
